


Axe's Little Bird

by Firefoxkitsune



Series: Axe x Reader series [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Captivity, Cock Vore, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), F/M, Horrortale Sans (Undertale), Kidnapping, Macro/Micro, Obsessive Behavior, Oral Sex, Predator/Prey, Stockholm Syndrome, Vore, more like teasing vore really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29080029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firefoxkitsune/pseuds/Firefoxkitsune
Summary: “oh god yeah, keep doing that…” he breathes, “you know just what your master likes, don’t you? fuck, i’m so hard...just look at what you do to me, little dove.” He flexes his cock to emphasize, jolting you a bit with it as it jumps. “now, be good for me and start pushing your hand inside...i want to feel you inside and out.”Axe puts his cute little human to work.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Series: Axe x Reader series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133543
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	Axe's Little Bird

“ _ mmmmmm,  _ you like this sweetheart? ngh,  _ fuck yeah, _ show me just how much you love it.”

You close your eyes tight, trying to pick up the speed that you’re pumping his dripping cock. Your naked body is slippery, lubed up generously from a mixture of his saliva and precome, and your breasts are squished tightly to his engorged member, rubbing against it deliciously as you pleasure him with your whole body. If his filthy and guttural noises are anything to go by, you’re doing a pretty good job, which is fortunate for you since you want to stay on his good side.

The fact that you’re panting from the heat and arousal in your body is just a side effect. Or so you tell yourself.

You can feel the piercing crimson gaze of your master-

no no, your  _ captor _ \- 

watching you, unblinking and enraptured. You don’t need to look up at him to know his one working eyelight must be pulsing in time with the beat of his soul, the pupil dilated to take in as much of you as it can. A full body shiver wracks your form at the feeling, a jolt of pleasure causing you to unconsciously clench your pussy and drip your wetness onto the mattress below you.

“oh yeah... _ shit _ ...you love monster cock, don’t ya little bird? just look at how wet ya are…” he licks his sharp canines to catch the bit of luminescent drool spilling from his monstrous teeth, “just from worshipping my dick like a good girl.  _ ngh _ yeah, such a good girl…. _ my _ good girl…” 

“Ah, Sans...Master…” you whine. The skeleton starts thrusting his hips against you in short bursts at the title (you learned early on it really gets him going), increasing the friction to the point that he grunts with each one from the pleasure. A glob of pre dribbles from the slit and glides sluggishly down your skin, hot and heavy, making you gasp. His musk is overwhelming. It’s so thick in the air, surrounding you, you can taste it as much as you can smell it.

You hear a ripping sound, and to your side you see the sharp phalanges of his hands puncturing the sheets in their iron grip. He’s trying not to take back control, despite how much he desperately wants to overwhelm you with his body. Instead, he seems to be aiming to overwhelm you with his words alone.

A test.

A test he’s more than happy for you to fail at as he is for you to succeed, of course. He’s still going to get what he wants, but whether it ends with you remaining his pet or becoming his food depends on your performance. On your obedience. 

“so fuckin’ soft…” he growls, gravelly and deep, “give me more, pet. i want to feel your little tongue tasting every-- _ oh _ …every inch of my cock.”

You sudder and nuzzle the head of his throbbing length, dragging your tongue against its feverishly warm surface. Sans grunts like he’s been struck, his mouth falling open as he watches you work him over with half lidded eye sockets. Every pulse and twitch of the huge dick feels so intense and powerful to your small frame. The heat and musk of it is overwhelming to your senses, driving you to grind your slick body harder and taste more of him with a pleasure induced, single minded purpose. You feel yourself slip into that warm, hazy state of mind you often find yourself in during these sessions, and it makes your role easier to play. Precome continues to ooze out, and you slide your hand through it to slicken things further, rubbing deliberately along the slit as you go. 

“oh god yeah, keep doing that…” he breathes, “you know just what your master likes, don’t you? fuck, i’m so hard...just look at what you do to me, little dove.” He flexes his cock to emphasize, jolting you a bit with it as it jumps. “now, be good for me and start pushing your hand inside...i want to feel you inside and out.”

You hesitate, anxiety tightening in your chest at the order. From your experience, this can go one of two ways: one, you do as you’re told, and you live another day, or two...you don’t, and you’re punished in a new, excruciating way. There’s always the possibility in the back of your mind that even if you do as he says, he’ll decide in the heat of the moment that you make a better snack than a pet, and then you’ll disappear down his shaft. He isn’t exactly the most sane monster, or one with a lot of restraint. Whatever you choose, he’ll get what he wants anyway, and you’d rather not meet your end in his balls again.

So, you steel yourself and begin teasing the lips of his cock slit with your fingers. You can hear him breathing short, ragged breaths in anticipation from your exploration. More pre wells out, easing your way in as you slide your hand inside. Sans throws his head back with a raw, desperate noise, then just as quickly snaps it back to continue watching. It’s so hot...such a drastic difference to the cooler outside air. It’s also impossibly soft to the touch, silken and smooth and wet. Certainly softer than you ever thought this monster was capable of being. You tentatively wiggle your fingers-

“oh  _ fuck-- _ ”

He lets out a guttural groan and his dick grips your arm tight. You feel your arm get sucked in just a bit deeper, a pull so strong it jostles you forward and causes you to stumble. The pressure is incredible. Tugging against the strength of his cock is like trying to wrench your arm from steel. When you look down, you’re morbidly fascinated to find you can see the outline of your limb on the underside of his cock, bulging from the tightness within. You bring up your other arm and cup the wide cockhead with your hand, then slowly slide it down to feel along the slick shaft. You slide over the bulge from your arm, feeling along the outline. You lay your palms together, touching the same place on his twitching cock with both arms...one inside, and one out. 

The monster you call your master is watching the show with such intense hunger, his words stolen from him for once at just how erotic he finds the sight before him...his beautiful little captive...his soft, sweet,  _ delicious _ dove is all slicked up and shoulder deep inside his cock. Feeling him out. Exploring him.  _ Experimenting _ with the sensation. It’s enough to have him panting like a dog in heat, and he can feel the copious amounts of fresh precome that douse your body from his drooling slit. 

The grip on your arm from his cock is still unrelenting, but allows some limited movement, and you take the opportunity to twist your arm around a bit. There’s practically no resistance: the inside is so slippery, it’s just a heated, smooth glide against the walls of his cock. The monster’s toes curl as he gasps, overwhelmed with the sensation.

“oh god yeah…” He moans in that dark, gravelly voice, “fuck...you’re so--!  _ ngh!  _ so good,  _ so _ good for me...want you in, in deeper...wish i could just- _ ah _ !” He cries out brokenly when you try to yank your arm free again, terrified he might be losing himself in the pleasure and his...desires. His dick only clamps down on you harder, the slippery walls nothing compared to the strength of it. “that feels so good...to feel you struggle like that. if only i could feel you struggling all the way down my shaft...mmmm, don’t worry sweetheart, i won’t hurtcha...as much as i’d  _ love _ to feel you slide into my nuts, you’ve been such a good girl for me. so show me what you got, dove. show your master that you make a much better pet than a tasty treat for my hungry cock to gobble up.”

With a shuddering breath, and ignoring the pulse of heat his words stir in your abdomen, you attempt to thrust your arm in and out, adding in a twist every now and then, while simultaneously following the motion on the outside surface with your free hand. The wet squelches from the motions make your face burn at how lewd it sounds. Finally unable to keep still, Sans starts to shallowly thrust against you, and though you can feel the desperation in it, there is a surprising amount of restraint. 

“so close, just a little m-more--!” he babbles, tongue lolling out, “gonna drench ya, gonna flood ya with my cum! you-!  _ ngh! yeah!  _ you’ll be so pretty painted in red, coated in my seed...mm... _ mmm!”  _ Sans snarls, his cock clenching down on you again and sucking you in deep, swallowing you until you feel his slit press against your face. The pulsing and clenching doesn’t stop, and then with a wet  _ slurp! _ you’re surrounded by his musk and heat. 

Panic grips you, adrenaline pumping through you and spiking your arousal into something sharp. You can do nothing but thrash to the best of your ability, the cock seeming desperate to squeeze you down its tight tunnel. All around you his cock pulses and twitches, the heat and tightness continuing to increase-

The first wet splash of cum is overwhelming, unescapable in that tight, wet tube, and so impossibly hot it was almost scalding. The second spurt is what jostles you free, pushing you back out and opening the floodgates as pulse after wet pulse of skeleton jizz paints your body. The monster’s clawed hand comes down to furiously pump his cock, drawing out his pleasure as he empties himself onto you with bestial snarls and swears. 

Already, you can feel your body becoming hypersensitive. His cum always seems to have this strange effect on you: every touch becomes so... _ pleasurable _ . So addicting. It leaves you writhing on the mattress, rubbing your slickened thighs together and begging for relief. You look up at your master, watching his scarred ribcage rise and fall with his heavy breaths, and stare into that blood red orb watching you with so much  _ satisfaction _ . 

“Master...please, Master! I...I need you!” You beg, the heat smoldering in you white hot and unrelenting. You reach down to rut into your own hand, desperately needing relief, finding yourself so covered in slippery fluids you don’t know where yours or his begin and end. It makes rubbing your clit effortless, and you glide the heel of your palm against it with every thrust from your fingers inside yourself. That ever present smile on his face widens until his fangs protrude, so pleased with your obedience and helplessness he can hardly contain himself.

“such a tantalizing sight...i’ll never get tired of seeing you so desperate.” With a chuckle, he crooks his phalange to beckon you to him, and you go. Practically falling all over yourself, you stumble forward and crawl the rest of the way when you inevitably fall. 

"Fuck, please, Master I--" You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp, Sans' hand having come down to gently stroke your side. You lean heavily into the touch, shuddering and desperate for more. Hazily, you watch as the monster leans down towards you, a growling purr resounding from deep in his chest. His awful, wonderful, terrifying but heavenly tongue lolls out to swipe teasingly along your face, then gets to work lathering you over. You both groan in unison, and he pushes you just a little more into his dextrous tongue to better curl over every curve you have.

"Oh god, oh  _ god-- _ " you babble, your pussy fluttering and clamping down on nothing at the overwhelming sensations. His tongue feels so impossibly good, eagerly licking clean the mess of his release and your own arousal-induced sweat.

"so perfect...your flavor is like an addiction. mmm. and the way your tender body feels on my bones...under my teeth…" 

Fresh slick runs down your thighs at the praise, guiltily but eagerly basking in it. The eager organ  _ finally _ trails down to your soaked sex, and you cry out. He easily pushes you over with it as he slides his fingers under your belly, positioning you onto your hands and knees. The wet heat of his tongue doesn't even pause its relentless strokes over you. You keen and thrust back into it, desperate for more of his offered pleasure. It’s rough, uncoordinated, animalistic, and absolutely amazing. There’s just enough friction in all the wetness, making it so easy to rut fast and hard in order to ignite that fire in your lower abdomen to an almost unbearable heat. 

“you’re my good girl, aren’t you sweetheart?” He murmurs roughly, his breath ghosting over your skin in short pants. 

“ _ Yes _ , oh fuck, yes yes I am!” You sob out, face burning with heat.

“heh…” He huffs out, slowing his licks to an almost teasing pace as you whine at the change, “do you love master’s tongue?”

“Yes...so much, Master, please! More!!”

He swirls his tongue and you stutter on a gasp at the nearly indescribable sensation.

“tell me...do you love being my precious, captive little dove?” He whispers to you. Your eyes snap open and the fog is momentarily lifted from your head. You should lie, you  _ need _ to lie, but suddenly your throat feels so tight and constricted that you couldn’t even utter out a croak if you wanted to.

The silence that follows feels like a death sentence.

The tension is cut by a soft hum of acknowledgement, the monster softly nuzzling into your side, “you don’t, do you? you know how to play the part, to say the right things...and you even enjoy the small pleasures i give ya, right?”

You feel frozen, too terrified to move, paralyzed by your fear that compounds on your already overly aroused body, making you feel almost fit to explode.

“you don’t seem to realize just how  _ lucky _ you are, do you little dove? if you only knew the horrors lurking outside this house, outside this  _ room _ ...maybe then you’d get it. if you survived long enough.”

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes, filling your vision and then spilling down your face. It’s all just too much; you’re tired, and hungry, and so wound up from all the stimulation and adrenaline you begin to tremble violently and uncontrollably. You’ve only ever encountered Sans, although you know you’ve heard him conversing with someone else deeper in the house. Are there worse horrors than the ones you know? Does it matter if you’ve already damned yourself with this one?

He makes a soft cooing sound, being surprisingly gentle with you as he continues to nuzzle and lick, “little dove...i love keeping you. having you here, waiting for me, and just for me.” He whispers viciously, like a secret, his one bloated eyelight flashing with emotion, “i thought i’d be bored of you by now. that we’d have a little fun, and test each and every way i could eat ya up until your persistent little soul finally gave up and let me have you. but you know what…?” He nips at your hip, sharp canines lightly grazing the skin and just like that, you’re thrust right back into the heat of desperation and arousal.

“you’ve become my obsession. when i’m out there, all i think about is you. your smell, your taste, the sounds i pull out of you, the faces you can’t hold back...they’re all something i can look forward to at the end of the day.”

In the back of his throat, a rusty purr kicks to life, an odd sound that you find alarmingly endearing. Despite everything, you’re touched in a way you never could have anticipated, your heart feeling like a tender bruise that aches in a vulnerable way. You don’t love him, he’s done terrible things to you, but you are so bereft of affection. To be so desired...it’s a strange, heady feeling that you wish didn’t make you feel warm and full. 

It’s disturbing. 

It’s all you have.

Why not just accept the comfort he is so willingly offering?

You gasp sharply at the feeling of that long, dextrous tongue prodding at your entrance. It’s much too big to fit far, but it wriggles inside as much as it can, stretching you just shy of painful. You let out a wail, clamping down on him in an attempt to suck him in further. It undulates inside you, pressing into the soft walls in ways that have you seeing stars. You start thrusting back in short bursts, shallowly fucking yourself on his tongue, chasing your long denied release. Suddenly, his fingers wrap around your lower half, the hard bone of his index finger pressing down above your vulva, and rolls the phalange to grind against your clit. You barely make it 4 more thrusts and grinds before you’re seeing white, choking on an ‘oh fuck’ as you clench down hard and focus on nothing but the wet heat of his mouth on you. It’s overwhelming and deliriously good. You can hear him speaking soft words at you, aimless affections and praises that make you roll your hips and lengthen your peak until you feel strung out and exhausted in the aftermath. 

His tongue pulls out of you with a wet squelch, and his fingers wrap around you more securely to lift you up. You watch dazedly as he produces a ratty looking washcloth from seemingly thin air, manhandling your limp body to clean you off. The hand cleaning you off has a slight tremor to it, but he’s...gentle. The cloth is already damp, and surprisingly warm, wiping away all evidence of the heated session. 

Well, except for your hair, but that hasn’t been properly washed in a very long time. Water can only do so much.

The constant switch between intense emotions and gentle handling has you feeling unsteady, vulnerable, and desperate to soak up this attempted mockery of affection. Your next inhale hitches, tears once again blurring your vision, and you cling to your only source of comfort, body shaking. He pauses his work for a beat, then two, silently watching, before discarding the cloth and standing up, cradling you close to his chest. His thumb rubs absently against your collarbone as he walks to the far side of the bare mattress, where an ornate, antique birdcage hangs from the ceiling. Sans unlocks it, but hesitates a moment to lean down and nuzzle your face. He takes one last deep breath of your scent, then gently lays you down in the center, where a large pile of soft scraps and cotton are gathered like a nest. 

You don’t even bother opening your eyes, listening to the door creak shut again and the lock click into place. Home sweet home.

“love you, my precious little bird. i’ll see what i can do to get you a nice little treat for being so good for me. until then...sleep tight.”

And then you’re alone, the house dark and still. 

When you wake up a few hours later, there’s a square of chocolate by the cage door.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fellow degenerates, I have had this damn thing in my folder for months. I hope you enjoyed! I have other various unfinished things, and maybe one day they'll be posted too. Who knows! I sure don't!


End file.
